Chapter Seven

      ‘Bugger!’ While talking on my mobile to Jess, I hunt for a quiet corner in the hotel bar. The call will cost money I don’t have, but this is an emergency. ‘Bugger, bugger, bugger!’

      ‘What’s wrong?’

      ‘The CEO. Alex. He’s gorgeous! Tall, dark-haired, ruggedly handsome and heavenly-bodied. Every time I’m with him I practically swoon, like a girl from those regency novels you devour. Or I basically drool. It’s so embarrassing. What am I going to do?’

      ‘Well, if you’d listened to me you wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place. I told you, it’s not right—’

      ‘What’s not right is what Tony bloody Ferrier did to me. Jess, please,’ I beg, ‘less teacher mode and more best friend. You still love me, right?’

      ‘Yes,’ she sighs. ‘Of course. Okay, so you’re finally going gaga over a man.’ She chuckles, lightening up. ‘I must admit I was wondering if it’d ever happen.’

      ‘That is not helpful.’ Spotting a free table, I stride across the room and sit down, ordering a glass of white wine from a passing waiter with a series of elaborate hand gestures. ‘And I’d hardly say going gaga. I’m just struggling a little to stay professional, that’s all.’

      ‘Sorry, but a little? You just said you nearly swooned.’ She laughs.

      ‘I’m glad you think this is funny. Remember that when you’re having to pull me out of a giant tub of ice cream and prise the empty wine bottle from my cold fingers because it’s all gone wrong.’ Then I interject quickly, ‘Don’t say it.’

      ‘Fine. And you’re there now, so we have to deal with it, I guess. Hmm. He’s gorgeous. Well, I agree it would be better if he was fat, old, smelly and bald.’

      ‘If only. And what’s really annoying is he’s totally not my usual type.’ I nod a thanks to the waiter as he places a glass of wine in front of me.

      ‘Why? Because he’s not a sensitive soul like the ones you usually go for who look like James Blunt on a bad day? Have you ever wondered if the guys you date aren’t really your type, and that’s why you never commit to them?’

      ‘Hey, watch it.’ I take a large mouthful of the wine. ‘You’re not so hot on the commitment front yourself, are you?’ I wince. ‘Sorry,’ I rush. She’s been in love with my oldest brother Tom for years, since a heated kiss on her fifteenth birthday caused mayhem and havoc in both our families. It almost ended our friendship when he rejected her. We don’t talk about it but I’ve always known he’s part of the reason she’s never had a serious relationship. Maybe one day it’ll work out between them. If anyone deserves a happy ending it’s Jess. ‘Besides,’ I switch subjects, ‘you’re forgetting Nick. He wasn’t my usual type and that didn’t work out.’

      ‘Yeah, he was a banker rather than an artist or musician, and a real man’s man. But he was also an ass who only wanted a trophy girlfriend. That was never going to be you. You’re too intelligent for a start.’

      ‘Doesn’t feel like it at the moment. Anyway, stop trying to get on my good side just because you’re losing the argument.’

      ‘I’m not! We’ve been friends for over twenty years, and you can be pretty annoying, I’ll give you that—’

      ‘Hey.’

      ‘But you do have some good qualities.’

      ‘Gee, thanks.’

      Jess sniggers. ‘Pleasure. So, what’s he like apart from not your usual type but gorgeous?’

      Maybe if I just focus on the negatives. ‘Arrogant, cynical, defensive and sexist. Oh, and stubborn. Entrenched in his views.’

      ‘Wow, that’s quite a list. And er, I hate to point it out Cee, but you’re not unfamiliar with the concept of stubbornness yourself.’

      I cut across Jess, on a roll. ‘He fluctuates from distant one minute to laughing the next. You never know where you are with him. He’s also kind of old-fashioned. You know,’ another gulp of wine slides down my throat as if by magic, ‘complete sentence construction, wanting to carry my bags, not believing in employing female staff.’

      ‘Speaking the Queen’s English? Offering to help you? How dare he?’ she mocks. ‘Complete and utter bastard.’

      I smile, knowing I’m caught out. ‘All right, perhaps I’m being a bit harsh but you can’t quibble the last one.’

      ‘That I get and it’s not acceptable.’ She pauses, mulling it over. ‘How old is he?’

      ‘Early thirties.’

      ‘Miss Caswell.’ The deep voice is unmistakable.

      Flicking a quick look over my shoulder, I freeze. Of course Alex is standing right behind me. The pit of my stomach drops down to my toes. God knows how long he’s been there for. Oh, crap.

      ‘Still, he doesn’t sound that bad,’ Jess is still chatting away, ‘from the way you described how hot he is, I think I could overlook some of the rougher edges. Or possibly train him,’ she muses. ‘Maybe I should pop across Europe and check him out?’

      ‘Um, I’ll get back to you on that. Gotta go.’

      ‘Something wrong?’

      ‘You could say that. Speak later.’ Flipping my phone closed, I stand reluctantly. How much has he heard? Everything including my comment about Tony? Talk about incriminating. Talk about blowing my cover. It would be just my luck if he kicks me out of this classy hotel with no belongings and no money and I’m left stranded in Barcelona.

      Taking a deep breath, I swivel around. ‘Alex. I didn’t realise you’d be down so soon.’

      ‘Obviously. So would I have overheard the entire character assassination if I’d arrived earlier?’

      Phew, he probably didn’t hear me mention Tony. Then mortification singes my face as I realise what he has overheard. ‘I’m sorry.’ Screwing my face up, ‘Er, what exactly—?’

      ‘Arrogant and sexist were mentioned. Old-fashioned and cynical also featured.’

      ‘I’m so sorry. Is there any point in saying some people might take some of those as compliments, in particular the old-fashioned part? You know,’ I squeak, wishing I could vanish in a puff of black smoke, ‘as in traditional values? Moral fortitude?’

      ‘I might have done, because I don’t think there’s anything wrong in being polite or articulate, or being worried about something other than the latest fashions or music, but they didn’t sound like compliments the way you said them.’

      ‘No, I get that,’ I confess, squirming now, ‘but it was because … ’

      ‘Because?’

      Because I was convincing myself not to like you. I can’t say so or the conversation will leap from humiliating